


Stupid Deep

by shadow_prince



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childhood Friends, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Quidditch, Slytherin Percy Weasley, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 15:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21460171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_prince/pseuds/shadow_prince
Summary: Percy is crushed when he and Oliver are sorted into different houses, but refuses to let the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry take his best friend away from him. Over the course of their 7 years at Hogwarts, there are a lot of bumps and hurdles, but luckily for him, they are both stubborn and determined to keep one another in their life.
Relationships: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Comments: 30
Kudos: 439
Collections: HP Butterfly Fest 2019





	Stupid Deep

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: “What if Percy had been sorted into Slytherin instead? His whole family is confused but after the initial surprise they don't care. Oliver Wood and Percy were friends before the Sorting and now they have to put more effort into hanging out while people ask why they're still friends when they're in different houses. They fight all odds and eventually end up together.”
> 
> Thank you to the prompter for this fantastic perciver idea, I stood no chance in not picking it up. Hope you like it, too. Thank you also to the mods and my lovely beta AstoundinglyMade.

_What if where I've tried to go was always here?_  
_And the path I've tried to cut was always clear?_

_ —stupid deep, jon bellion _

##  **I.**

The truth was, he was scared.

The hat was lifted from his head and the room was silent. No raucous cheers like the girl before him who had gone to Ravenclaw. No hoots and hollers from his brothers, who, if he could break his own rigid state, he was sure were in as much shock as he was. But all he could do was sit frozen in fear with his eyes locked on the next boy in line for sorting.

Desperately, he thought, _ maybe. _ A hand on his shoulder gently ushered him toward the Slytherin table as _ Wood, Oliver _ was called. Percy stood next to a bench, not daring to blink as Oliver jutted his chin out defiantly and furrowed his eyebrows as the sorting hat was lowered over his head. Percy watched as Oliver’s hands fisted tighter in his lap and wondered what the hat was telling him—what he was replying. 

In the end, he saw Oliver’s shoulders slump a fraction of a second before the hat called out, and knew it all was lost.

_ “GRYFFINDOR!” _

He sat faintly on the bench behind him, heart in his throat as Oliver spared him a pained glance before moving to the table at the other side of the Great Hall, taking a seat next to Charlie.

It wasn’t that Percy cared about the house specifically. He had always known he was a little bit different than his brothers, that his brain ticked just a little bit differently. And his parents never much cared for the house rivalry or thought the whole family _ needed _ to be Gryffindor the way other families cared about that sort of thing. No, it wasn’t about the house.

In the few seconds it took for the Gryffindor table to swallow up Oliver, Percy saw the next seven years in an instant. Saw classes and games and bed times and study sessions without his best friend there with him. Saw the way Gryffindor would swallow him whole without anything left over for Percy to hold onto.

The rest of dinner passed, both dragging on and passing in a blur. He followed a Slytherin Prefect down the stairs, memorising the path as he went. Down the stairs from the entrance hall, left, left, hidden passage, more stairs, right, then left, then the patch of bare stone wall that melts away at the right password (_ Fluxweed _ at the moment.)

Growing up, Percy had heard plenty about Gryffindor tower. Even though he had never set foot inside, he could easily picture the common room with its towering fireplace and tall, narrow windows, scattered with tufted, red velvet couches and gold filigree decorations. He had never before tried to picture what any of the other common rooms or dorms might look like, and quickly forgot his petulant sadness in the face of curiosity, peering around at his new home with childhood wonder.

It was fashioned to resemble a shipwreck, with glossy dark wood and wide windows, curved at the top and latticed that look out under Black Lake. The ceilings were very high and smooth circular pillars scattered the room. A few of them even had “bird’s nests” that students could climb up to, scattered with pillows and blankets in them for curling up with a book to study.

They were shown where the baths were, and Percy had to force his face to neutrality lest he be embarrassed by the opulence. For so long he had been crammed into a home stretched to the gills and still not large enough for his very large family. It was always stepping on one another’s toes and fighting for the bathroom and a seat at the table or a spot on the couch and now. Now he stood staring in wonder at gleaming marble and private showers that he would never have to wait for again.

His room was small, but they each had their own—another startling difference both from what he expected being in Gryffindor and his own at home where he had still shared with Charlie. When the Prefect closed the door behind him, leaving Percy alone in his new home, he stood very still for a moment, letting it all sink in. Slowly, he ran his fingers over his dresser, with a matching mirror seated on top of it. A slow smile crept across his face when he saw he had a bookcase—his very own bookcase, one that wouldn’t be tampered with by the twins, that he wouldn’t mysteriously have things go missing or have pages ripped out of, or spelled to spout nasty things about his glasses and call him four-eyes.

The bed was larger than one he could ever dream of having at home and draped green velvet and sheer silver curtains. Laying on the covers was a silver and green tie, a green sweater with the snake crest, and a pair of silver cufflinks. He ran a hand down the post, stopping when he felt an imperfection where it met the foot board. Leaning closer, he saw three letters carved into wood—R.A.B.

##  **II.**

Going home for the summer was even worse than Christmas holidays, what with the twins taunting him for not being in Gryffindor and his parents going out of their way to remind him that they loved him and that it didn’t matter to the point that it was stifling. Percy had hoped the novelty would have worn off by summer, but really it was just a constant reminder that he was different. Secretly, vengefully, he hoped that one of the twins wouldn’t be in Gryffindor, just so that he could rub it in their face and direct their attention toward one another in rivalry and get them to leave him alone. 

He quickly hugged his mum and dad on platform 9 ¾, and then hauled his trunk onto the train and searched for Oliver, who had signaled him earlier that he was going to find them a compartment. He stopped short when he heard his name.

“No, I’m saving a seat for Percy Weasley. He should be here soon.”

There was an older Gryffindor blocking the entrance to a compartment, his back to Percy and arms crossed across his broad chest. A beater on their Quidditch team, Percy thought.

“Percy? Isn’t he the Weasley in Slytherin?”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Why do you even waste your time on him?” the boy demanded.

“He’s my best friend! I’ve known him my whole life.”

The other scoffed. “Yeah, but you’re here now. You’re a Gryffindor and he’s a Slytherin.”

“I don’t care,” Oliver proclaimed, and even though he couldn’t see him, Percy could picture the way his chin jutted out proudly, defiant and stubborn. “He’s more important than some stupid house rivalry.”

“Yeah, okay. We’ll see how long that lasts. You’re young.”

A weight dropped in Percy’s stomach and he wasn’t sure what to do, but at that moment Bill shouldered his way down the corridor from the other side. Percy wondered if he had heard the conversation and was quickly answered in the way his older brother dropped a large hand on the Gryffindor’s shoulder with too much force. “Barnes, nice to see you again. Hope your summer was pleasant.” Before Barnes could answer, Bill looked past him to where Percy was standing frozen. “Do you need help with your trunk Percy, or waiting for Barnes to get out of your way.”

Percy cleared his throat and swallowed nervously. “I just didn’t want to interrupt.”

Barnes cleared off and Percy was glad, even if he couldn’t quite meet Oliver’s eye while he stowed his trunk. Oliver moved over and let Percy have the seat next to the window, knowing it was his favourite, and asked about his summer, even though they had spent a large portion of it together. Percy played with a loose button on the cuff of his shirt and Oliver bumped him lightly on the shoulder.

“Hey. Alright?”

“Yeah, sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno, you seem.” Oliver cocked his head, studying Percy with furled brow. “Bothered.”

“Your friends don’t like me. Do they,” Percy stated, rather than asked.

Next to him Oliver shrugged, unbothered. “So? What’s it matter?”

Percy blinked, staring at his best friend for a few seconds, before smiling softly. “I guess it doesn’t.”

At that moment the trolley witch stuck her head in and Oliver picked out several of their shared favourite snacks and Bill joined them with a friend of his and a pack of exploding snaps, and Percy forgot all about Barnes for the rest of the ride.

His confidence was short lived though, as second year proved more trying than the first. Their classes were more difficult, the expectations higher, and people generally settled more into life at Hogwarts than they had in their first year. Oliver’s dormmates were excited to have him back and complained that Percy had him most of the summer, he should spend time with them. Or Percy would get caught up studying with Penelope Clearwater from Ravenclaw for their charms exam and forget he was supposed to meet Oliver for a game of chess. 

“Oliver!” he shouted, jogging lightly across the expansive entrance hall. “Do you want to work on that potions essay with me?” 

“Actually, I’m headed down to Quidditch practice,” Oliver smiled excitedly.

Percy frowned, cocking his head in confusion. “But…you’re not on the Quidditch team.”

“Well, no. Not yet. But Charlie said I should come watch so that I can try out next year.”

“But the potions essay is due tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’ll do it later.”

Percy huffed, crossing his arms. “You aren’t even on the team, but you do have an essay, why can’t you do that _ now _ and watch a different practice.”

Oliver glanced over his shoulder to where Barnes had called his name, standing in the doorway waiting to walk down to the pitch. “Because this is important to me and I want to make the team next year. I need every edge I can get. I’ll see you later.” He waved absentmindedly as he walked away, but wasn’t looking at Percy whose shoulders slumped, dejected.

##  **III.**

“He can’t watch tryouts.” The 6th year stuck her finger in Percy’s face, who swatted it away annoyed.

“Why not?” Percy demanded.

“Because he’s a Slytherin,” the girl said, answering Percy’s question, but pretending she hadn’t heard him and facing Charlie. “He’ll give away all our secrets.”

Charlie frowned. “It’s a tryout, not even a practice. There aren’t exactly secrets to give away. Besides, he’s just here to support someone who is trying out.”

“I’m not even friends with anyone on Slytherin’s team!” Percy protested hotly.

“He might hex someone. Or try and distract other people trying out or-”

“I won’t!”

“He won’t!” Oliver shouted, coming out of the changing room and seeing what was happening. “Leave him alone!”

The girl squared her shoulders, glaring at Oliver. “Maybe as a recruit you should show more respect to a player who gets to weigh in on whether you make it or not.”

Oliver opened his mouth to argue, but Percy put a hand on his chest, pushing him back away from the girl by a step. “It’s fine,” he told him, defeated.

“No it’s not!”

“Yes it is, you don’t need me here. You’ll do fantastic all on your own. I’ll be in the astronomy tower, come tell me all about it when you’re finished.” He smiled at Oliver, hand still resting on his chest, he could feel Oliver’s heart beating beneath his palm, strong and steady and fired up. 

Oliver was still frowning, but nodded. “Yeah, alright.”

“Good luck.” Percy shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off the pitch, stealing one last glance over his shoulder just in time to see Oliver kick off the ground on his broom into the orange dusk. Once he stepped foot into the castle, he jogged lightly, navigating the moving staircases with ease and jumping over trick steps. Up, up, up he went until he reached the top of the astronomy tower. The wind ruffled his hair and he leaned his elbows on the stone, feeling its coolness through the sleeves of his emerald green sweater.

He quickly picked out Charlie, easily distinguishable even from a distance by his long red hair, ponytail whipping in the wind. Oliver was not hard to pick out either though, because Percy knew that he was going for keeper—the position recently vacated by Bill, having finished Hogwarts last year. Percy watched the small figures as they darted through the air, watched the way they wove around one another like enchanted carvings in a music box. It was too far away to see the quaffle, but he could tell enough to know that Oliver was doing well. 

He would make the team. Percy was sure of it. And Percy would smile and congratulate him and go watch every game, even though it wasn’t his House’s team, and even though it meant even less time with Oliver. He would be glad. Because this is what Oliver had talked about and dreamed about and practiced for, as long Percy could remember.

It was some time later that the team walked off the pitch, Charlie with his hand on Oliver’s shoulder, his other arm waving animatedly. Everything Charlie did was large and filled with energy—Percy envied him that confidence and livelihood, but it also seemed exhausting. He wondered how his brother managed it.

Oliver’s footsteps echoed up the stairs, announcing his presence long before he burst through the doorway, his cheeks flushed and chest rising and falling as he drew large lung-fulls of air. “I think I did it!” he proclaimed, throwing himself down on the ground on his back, arms and legs splayed. “Charlie will post the list tomorrow, but I think I did it. He seemed pleased.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it,” Percy stated, taking a seat on the floor next to him and crossing his legs neatly.

Oliver rolled over, putting his head in Percy’s lap and burying his face in his sweater, wrapping his arms around Percy’s stomach. Percy brushed sweat slicked strands from his friend’s forehead, humming and gasping as appropriate and he was recanted with every dive, every save, every drill of the try-out. 

“Are you sure you should be telling me all of the dirty details of Gryffindor’s try-out process?” Percy teased.

Oliver twisted, unburying his face to scowl up at him. “She was ridiculous, you should have stayed. You know Charlie would have let you, you didn’t need to run off.”

“Didn’t want to get you in trouble, or risk them saying you didn’t deserve the spot because Charlie was showing favouritism.”

“_ I’m _ not his brother, though.” 

“Yes, well. She was, as you said, unreasonable. No need to give her any ammunition. Besides, you did just fine without me there.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t wish you had been.”

Percy let his fingers linger in the short hairs at the nape of Oliver’s neck. “I know, I’m sorry.”

Oliver hummed, before reburying his face and hugging Percy tighter. “What time are we meeting tomorrow to study?” he asked, voice muffled.

##  **IV.**

November arrived blustery and grey, the red and orange leaves of the forbidden forest that peeked between the evergreens turned to brown and scattered the dark earth. Frost crunch beneath Percy’s boots as he crossed the grounds toward the first Quidditch match of the season. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he hurried toward the crowded stands, the commotion and roar of people growing the nearer he drew. 

It was, of course, Slytherin against Gryffindor, but Percy was wearing nothing for either House and hoped to draw no attention to himself as he slipped into Gryffindor’s bleachers—the one time that his inordinately bright red hair actually lent itself to covertness, as most people in Hogwarts were used to Weasleys being in Gryffindor.

Oliver had, _ of course _, made the Gryffindor team and it was his first match taking over as Keeper. Percy had spent all morning finishing assignments and left the library in a flurry to drop his things in his room before going to the match, where Fred and George had promised to save a spot for him. 

The twins waved from the crowd of red and gold when they saw him searching, scanning the faces before settling on theirs in the second row. As soon as he joined them, Fred threw an arm around his shoulders and drew Percy down to his level to speak into his ear without having to yell above the noise.

“Snuck into the locker room ‘afore the game, we did.”

Percy opened his mouth to complain about not wanting to know what they got up to that they shouldn’t, but Fred kept going.

“Oliver dinnit look so good. White as a ghost, that one.”

George leaned over too. “Are you tellin’ him ‘bout Wood? ‘cos I even stopped trying to hide a dungbomb in his change of clothes, he looked so bad, Perce.”

Percy pulled away and searched the sky where most of the players were flying on their designated sides to warm up in the cold November air, but the Gryffindor goal was empty. He found him on the ground, Charlie's hands on both his shoulders and giving him, what appeared to be, a very intense motivational speech. He wondered if it was helping or hurting, knowing that when Oliver got into his own head he often didn’t hear a word Percy said to him.

The match started and immediately Slytherin took possession. He watched as the quaffle was passed from one Slytherin Chaser to another. To Marcus Flint, Percy realised, and a stone sunk into his stomach.

Marcus Flint, who was angry with Percy for not spending more time with the other Slytherins in their year. Marcus who had gotten in Percy’s face the night before when he refused to study with them for potions because he was meeting Oliver. Marcus, who sneered that if Percy liked Oliver so much maybe he should just suck his dick and live in Gryffindor tower instead.

Percy grabbed Fred’s wrist and squeezed, hardly hearing the indignant yelp as his eyes followed the streak of green across the pitch straight toward Oliver. He’s balanced on his broom, intently watching as Charlie shouted orders and plays from where he hovered above the rest of them.

Marcus drew his arm back to throw, and Percy realised he was not going for one of the open goals right as he whipped it straight at Oliver’s head. He didn’t even get his hands up in time. Percy released Fred’s wrist at the same moment it made contact and shoved his way through the front row. One hand on the bar, he vaulted over the railing and hit the ground running, somewhere in the back of his adrenaline fueled mind grateful he was wearing Charlie’s old boots, soft and molded to his feet and much easier than oxfords as he ran toward Oliver’s plummeting body.

Charlie was diving toward the ground—and not known for being the greatest Seeker the school has seen in years for nothing—but Percy knew he didn’t fly with his wand. He thought he heard someone yell his name, but ignored it as he clumsily drew his wand from his trousers. He was not as close as he wanted and his hands were frozen and he’d only tried this spell once or twice, but he planted himself because he was _ out of time. _

_ “Aresto Momentum!” _

Oliver’s body slowed, more like a feather floating on the wind than the dead weight dropping from the sky he had been moments before. He landed on the grass on his back, silent and still and Percy lowered his wand, blood pounding in his ears as he dropped to his knees and choked off a sob. Professors were gathering around Oliver, their robes and cloaks blocking Percy’s view but he was too shocked to move until Charlie grabbed him under the armpits and hauled him to his feet, hugging him and speaking quickly into his ear, but the words were entirely lost—a hive of buzzing bees.

Everything was a blur of colours and cold and fear as Charlie grabbed his wrist and they ran behind the professors transporting Oliver to the medical wing. Only snippets made it to Percy’s brain—alive, breathing, saved. He finally snapped out of his haze when they tried to make him leave and he refused so viciously, aggressively, stubbornly that all of the faculty were startled into silence and withdrew without daring to remove him.

He stayed there, day and night. Sometimes reading Quidditch history books out loud. Sometimes just sitting and staring out the window. For a week. A week, Oliver was unresponsive but for the rise and fall of his chest proving he was still alive.

Percy was sitting in the chair he had pulled close to the bed, a book on the history of broom regulations in one hand, the other resting on the bed close to Oliver’s, when he felt the other stir, hand shifting to tangle his fingers between Percy’s.

Finally.

Percy closed the book and set it down on the table, breathing a sigh of exhausted relief he wasn’t aware he had been harboring as a knot of anxiety beneath his breastbone for a week straight. Oliver opened his eyes and turned to look at Percy, blinking several times.

Oliver cleared his throat before whispering, “Hi.” Percy swallowed a pained cry before crawling into the bed next to Oliver and crying onto his shoulder.

##  **V.**

Oliver and Percy were both seated at the breakfast table at the Burrow when several Hogwarts owls swooped in through the open backdoor. Percy caught his letter, frowning in disgust as George let his fall in his porridge and Fred purposely let the corner of his dip into Charlie’s tea with an insincere _ “oops.” _

He was scanning is own letter, a pleased smile on his face, when across from him Oliver leapt out of his seat, the chair toppling backwards. “You didn’t!” he exclaimed, eyes on Charlie. Percy looked between the two of them, not a clue what was going on, but assuming it was good by the overjoyed smile plastered on Oliver’s face.

Charlie shrugged, but his own smile was smug. “I may have suggested it.”

“What?” Fred asked, still having not even opened his own soggy and stained.

Oliver looked over at Percy, his brown eyes wild and a hand going to his hair, gripping it in disbelief and the other still clutching the letter. “I made Quidditch Captain.”

Percy hardly had time to smile, and no time at all to congratulate him, before Oliver had come around the table and dragged him up out of his seat, spinning him around in excitement.

“Merlin, Wood, put me _ down! _” he demanded, laughing.

“Do you know what this means?!” 

“That you’ll be even more insufferable than usual about the bloody sport?” Percy offered.

Oliver returned Percy’s feet to the ground, but didn’t even frown at the jest, too deliriously excited as he was. 

“You’ll have to refer to me as captain from now on,” Oliver said, smiling maniacally and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

Percy leaned forward, smiling smugly himself. “First off, that only applies to those on your team.” At the table behind them he heard Fred and George groan in unison. “Second, that means you’ll have to refer to me as _ Prefect _ from now on.”

Oliver’s jaw dropped and then he was hugging Percy all over again. “Congrats, Perce! Oh, wow, look at us go.”

“Oh, Percy that’s wonderful!” his mother released Ron and his first year letter to fuss over Percy. “We’ll have to get you new robes! Oh, and a pet, I think. What do you think, love?”

“That’s really not necessary, Mum-”

“No, no, of course it is. Oliver will you come with us to Diagon Alley again this year? I’ll write to your mother and check her schedule, I think. There’s so many of you going this year, it will take both of us, I think.”

“I’m sure that’s fine, Mrs. Weasley.”

“15 years later and you still won’t call me Molly? Honestly, too polite for your own good.”

Oliver’s large hand wrapped around Percy’s slender wrist and was tugging him gently. They snuck off easily, the whirlwind of letters and book lists and uniforms covering their escape. Laughter bubbled in their chest as they climbed the creaking stairs before throwing themselves into Percy’s bedroom and locking the door behind them. 

Percy yelped in surprise as Oliver grabbed him around the waist, tossing him onto the bed like a bag of turnips and crowding his space. Percy tried to twist and throw Oliver off him, but it was useless, it had stopped being fair when they wrestled years ago. Even before Oliver hit his growth spurt earlier that summer, it had been obvious he would quickly outpace Percy, what with his broad shoulders and large hands and thick legs. While they used to look out of place, Oliver had steadily grown into them and now when he pinned Percy, he covered him entirely, holding him in place easily with strong Quidditch thighs and those hands around Percy’s wrists again.

“This isn’t a fair fight, and you know it,” Percy stated, scowling but not bothering to fight Oliver’s hold. “And I’m not calling you Captain, nice try though.”

“Worth a shot,” Oliver told him, smiling crookedly. “Merlin, I’m so excited. Have to start drafting practice schedules, and look for a new Seeker and wow. This is fantastic.”

“Exactly what you’ve been dreaming of,” Percy told him.

“And what about you? Mr. Prefect.”

“Yes, well. It will certainly help when I apply to the Ministry.”

Oliver rolled his eyes and flexed his hands. “Can’t ever focus on the right now, can you. Not enough to be Prefect, have to think about the Ministry.”

“I’m just saying!”

“Yes, well, _ I’m _ just saying. Be excited for this. Be proud of yourself.”

“I am proud! I worked hard, I’m always top of our class, because I want-”

Oliver cut him off again. “Want to be Head Boy because it looks good to the Ministry, yes, I _ know. _”

Percy frowned, not understanding what Oliver wanted from him.

“Forget Head Boy and forget the Ministry. Right this very second. You are a Prefect.”

They were both quiet for several seconds, the air heavy and stiflingly warm in the height of summer.

“It _ is _ pretty cool, isn’t it,” Percy whispered, finally. 

Oliver’s grin was slightly maniacal. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

##  **VI.**

It was hard both having responsibilities. Percy was busy with helping first years get settled in and Oliver was busy with Quidditch practices and the entire school was in an uproar over the arrival of Harry Potter for his first year. In the moments, Percy didn’t realise how little of Oliver he saw because he could hardly think past what was needed of him right then, but each night when he laid down and it hit him that he hadn’t seen his best friend that day, or hadn’t gotten to tell him about something that happened, it hurt more acutely than it had since first year that they didn’t share a dorm and a house.

They had always gone out of their way to find time to be together, but fifth year left very little time to be found. The weight of his new robes, with their pristine pressed fabric and no fraying edges, and what it had cost his parents to purchase them for him hung heavy on his shoulders. Oliver’s encouragement to live in the moment faded from his memory quickly as Percy buried himself in preparing for O.W.L.s and ensuring he put himself in the best position that he possibly could for when he got out of Hogwarts.

He had so much to accomplish, so much to live up to, and so much to do to create a name for himself. It became difficult to think of much else.

Their new DADA professor’s lessons left a lot to be desired, adding even more to what Percy ended up having to teach himself. Between his nightly rounds and interruptions in the evenings from other members of his House, Percy rarely got a moment of quiet to himself to learn the material that should have been covered in class. Which was just more work when he already had too much.

Percy was in the library surrounded by stacks of books and rolls of parchment, knowing that he should put away DADA and write the two feet for Snape that was due on the Amortentia they had brewed that week in class. He removed his glasses because his eyes were burning, squeezing them shut as he massaged the bridge of his nose in irritation, trying to remember where he had put his notes and recall exactly what he had smelled in his potion.

A hand landed on his shoulder and startled him halfway out of his chair. Oliver was standing over him in his Quidditch uniform and sporting a fair amount of dirt, his hair windswept and grip tight on Percy’s shoulder. He was frowning.

“Rough practice?” Percy asked, squinting and still rubbing at his eyes.

Oliver’s frown deepened. “Actually it was a match. My first as captain. Against Slytherin. We won.”

Percy was quiet, his overworked and foggy brain taking several ticks to catch up. “Match. I didn’t realise the match was today?”

“How did you not know there was a match?? It’s all anyone has talked about and it was your House. It’s all _ I’ve _ talked about.”

“I haven’t _ seen _ you in the past three weeks, except for in Arithmancy and you didn’t say anything about it. I had no idea.”

Oliver released him to run a hand through his hair. “Alright, well. I’ll leave you to your studying, I guess.”

“Oliver!”

“Don’t worry about it.” Oliver strode out of the library without a backwards glance. Percy slumped in his chair and put his face down in the open book, hands fisted in his hair in frustration and guilt.

The next time he was aware of his surroundings, there was a hand shaking him gently. Sitting up and blinking wearily, he took in the night sky, dark outside the window and the candles casting flickering shadows around the library. He must’ve fallen asleep, he realised. 

A steaming cup of tea was set down in front of him before Oliver took the seat next to him, dragging it closer until their legs were pressed together. His hair was damp and smelled of lemon and rosemary as if he had just come from the showers. He hesitated, watching Percy before slipping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer. 

Percy sleepily buried his face in Oliver’s neck, allowing Oliver to hold him and tuck his chin on top of his head. “Sorry,” Percy mumbled against his skin.

“Me too.” They were both quiet for a long time and Percy let his eyes drift shut again. “I may have been a bit,” Oliver paused, licking his lips, “_ obsessive _ lately, with Quidditch and being Captain.”

Percy snorted, a smile on his face as he turned further against Oliver and breathing deeply of his clean soapy smell. “You’re _ always _ obsessive about Quidditch. It’s not a bit, and it’s not just lately.”

He scoffed and hugged Percy tighter. “I’ll make more time for you.”

_ Pearlescent shimmer and spiraling steam. New parchment. Mum’s apple scones. Lemon and rosemary. _

“Me too,” Percy promised, insides twisting.

##  **VII.**

“Penelope is looking at you again.”

“People are allowed to look at me Oliver. It has been known to happen. Part of the human experience and, you know, being corporeal and all.”

Oliver scoffed and Percy rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying, she has a crush on you and it’s pretty terrible of you to continue to lead her on like this.”

They had had this conversation a dozen times at least this year, so Percy didn’t even look up, instead idly flipping the page of his book, reading about the conjuring of corporeal patronus that they would be working on that week. “She doesn’t have a crush on me, and I’m not leading her on.”

He was sure Oliver would continue arguing, but was saved by the girl herself.

“Hey Percy,” Penelope greeted, resting her books on the edge of the table that Oliver and Percy had taken over in their usual corner of the library. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Yes he- _ oof. _”

“Yes, I am,” Percy answered blithely, as if he hadn’t just elbowed Oliver in the ribs. “What’s up?”

Oliver crossed his arms and hunched down next to him.

“Ah, never mind then. Was just going to see if you could swap rounds with me and take tonights instead of tomorrow. Jasmine was saying the sky would be clear enough to see saturn tonight. You know how she is about those things.” She tucked her long hair behind her ear, rolling her eyes affectionately.

Percy smiled. “Yes, I do know how passionate your _ girlfriend _ is about astronomy. I happen to sit next to her in the subject. Sorry I can’t switch though, I sort of, have a thing planned for someone special tonight.” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the burn of a telltale blush.

“No problem! Have fun, and good luck.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively before gathering her books back up and leaving the library.

In his head Percy counted, waiting for Oliver to close his mouth where it hung open in surprise and then demand answers. “What are you doing tonight?” _ 24 seconds. _

Percy turned the page. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But. Who is it then?”

“Oliver you’re being nosy.”

“I’m your best friend! I should know!”

“You don’t have to know everything.” Secretly, Percy loved when he got like this. Hot headed and demanding and stubborn. He was glad it was already afternoon and not morning when Penny had asked, he didn’t know if he could have made it an entire day with Oliver hounding him for answers.

“Of course I need to know everything. Also, I’m angry with you for not telling me she had a girlfriend, but we’ll come back to that.”

Percy smirked. “It was more fun watching you be jealous.”

He crossed his arms and slumped low in his chair. “I wasn’t jealous.”

“Yes, I can tell,” he answered dryly, looking over and cocking a single eyebrow at the way Oliver was trying to hunch in on himself despite his broad shoulder and chest that would never allow such a thing to be remotely effective.

“I thought we were going to hang out tonight.”

Percy hummed noncommittally, returning to his book and trying to quell the smile threatening to give him away. Oliver pouted the rest of their time in the library, alternating between broody silence and asking Percy questions about that evening.

When he gathered his things, shoving them into his rucksack, Oliver jumped to his feet, following suit. “Where are you going now?”

“To the kitchens.”

“What for?”

“Some things I asked them to make.”

Oliver huffed and followed him, stealing glances at Percy as they walked, as if waiting for him to send him away. “Are you going to change clothes?”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Percy demanded archly.

“You look like a swot.”

“I _ always _ look like a swot, what will changing clothes do.”

“Well. I don’t know. You’re not wearing your Head Boy badge.”

Percy rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not, tonight isn’t related to being Head Boy.”

“I didn’t mean it was, I meant like. It would be impressive to them that you are.”

He was looking into the basket of food one of the house elves passed him, swatting Oliver’s hand why he tried to steal a pasty. “Now you’re trying to help me impress them?”

“I’m just trying to be helpful.”

“Ahhh yes. You are known for your helpfulness.”

Oliver laughed, then remembered he was upset. “Shut up. And let me have a pasty, I’m hungry.”

“Mmmm, too bad.”

Percy shouldered open the large front doors, hands full with the basket and his rucksack of books still heavy on his back. Oliver was still pestering him for information, but stopped short when the doors swung open. “Oh, wow.” 

The sun was dipping below the horizon and the sky was lit up with the most vibrant shades of orange and red and pink, the brightest of stars twinkling in like glitter tossed on paint.

Spring had come early and the night was warm enough to not need cloaks. Percy spread a blanket beneath a tree at the edge of Black Lake that he had brought with him to school from the Burrow. It was old and worn soft and had seen many more picnics than this one. 

Percy toed off his shoes and sat cross-legged on top of it, opening the basket to pull out two cold butterbeers that were tucked inside. Oliver hesitated at the edge, eyes on the blanket. Maybe he was remembering when mum had wrapped them in it after they had both fallen into a lake that wasn’t completely frozen over winter holiday second year, drenched and shivering next to one another. Or maybe the time they had brought it with them to a muggle drive-in, sitting side by side and spending more of the night talking than watching the film, much to Ron’s chagrin. 

“I guess I should leave you to it then, huh?” Oliver asked, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Actually, I would prefer if you sat down.”

“What?”

Percy opened one butterbeer and offered it up to Oliver, who accepted it hesitantly before sliding off his own trainers and sitting down next to Percy under the tree. He took one sip before setting it down next to Percy’s and leaning back on his hands to look at the sky again.

“What about your special someone?” Oliver asked quietly.

Nervously, Percy licked his lips, his heart hammering in his chest like a bird trying to take flight. He cupped Oliver’s jaw and leaned up cautiously, hovering just over his mouth and waiting for Oliver to meet him halfway.

Oliver closed the distance, meeting Percy in the middle the way he always had, kissing him once softly. Then again. And again harder and more sure. He wrapped an arm around Percy’s waist, easily hauling him into his lap. Percy huffed, but draped his arms around his shoulders and neatly folded his legs on either side of Oliver’s. He kissed the tip of Oliver’s nose, laughing when he scrunched up his face and blushed.

“My special someone has been here all along.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading xx


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